house was completely silent.
Then Mia made a tiny sound.
Not a sob. Not a word.
A frightened breath.
I rolled my eyes toward her. She lay half under the dining chair, one cheek pressed against the wooden floor. Her pupils were huge. Tears clung to her lashes, but she had not moved.
My brave girl.
I dragged one finger across the rug.
Her eyes followed it.
Slowly, painfully, I lifted my hand until my fingertips touched my lips.
Quiet.
She blinked once.
I did not know how much time we had. I did not know what was in the tea. I did not know who was coming in the van or why Adrian had said documents, signatures, out of the country.
All I knew was that my daughter was on the floor and my husband had arranged for someone to take us.
My phone was under the sofa.
I had dropped it there earlier while helping Mia find a lost earring. Adrian had asked twice where it was, and I had pretended not to hear. At the time, I thought he was merely annoyed because I had stopped sharing my location with him.
Now the distance between my hand and that phone felt like miles.
I slid my palm forward. My nails caught on the rug. My shoulder trembled. I stopped when the dining room lights swayed again above me.
Breathe.
Do not pass out.
Move.
I reached again.
The tips of my fingers brushed the phone case.
A dull thud came from the garage.
I froze.
Adrian’s voice floated through the door, muffled but clear enough to make my blood turn cold.
“Not yet. I said midnight. She’ll be easier to handle by then.”
She.
Which one of us?
I hooked one finger around the phone and dragged it toward me. The screen lit up against my palm.
No service.
Of course.
Adrian had complained for years that the old house was a dead zone. He had even joked that if the world ended, we would be the last family to know.
I tried to dial emergency services anyway.
Nothing.
I tried again.
The call failed.
Panic rose so fast I nearly choked on it.
Then the phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
For one terrible second, I thought it was Adrian.
The message opened by itself under my shaking thumb.
“He’s not taking you to a hospital. Check the kitchen trash. The truth is under the coffee grounds. Hurry.”
I stared at the words.
Who was this?
How did they know I was awake?
How did they know what Adrian had done?
Mia’s gaze fixed on the screen. Her lips formed a silent question.
I had no answer.
I pushed the phone into the waistband of my jeans and crawled.
Every inch was war. The drug made my muscles feel like wet sandbags. My elbows slid across the hardwood. My hair stuck to my mouth. Behind me, Mia dragged herself forward, making no sound except one sharp inhale when her knee struck the table leg.
I wanted to tell her to stay. I wanted to tell her I would handle it.
But there was no time for lies.
We reached the kitchen trash can together.
The smell of coffee grounds, lemon peels, and the sweet floral tea rose as
